Make a home out of you, p.14
Make a Home Out of You, page 14
I had never called myself the B-word (bisexual) or said I liked girls. Was Paula going to reject me by scowling or trying to talk me out of it?
I sat in her office and tugged at a string on my sweatshirt as I worked to find the courage to say the words out loud.
“So, I think I like girls. Like, I wanna date them.” Then I cringed as I thought about the fact that I was attending a Catholic college. Was Paula a strict Catholic, or did she just work here?
“Okay,” she said. There was no hint of judgment in her voice or on her face. I wondered if that was good because she didn’t judge me or bad because she wasn’t smiling. I clenched my stomach muscles. “How long have you been feeling this way?” she asked.
I swallowed hard. I asked myself if I should tell her the truth or whether I should keep the rest of it all inside. What if she told a priest at school and got me kicked out? I knew that wasn’t likely, but I wasn’t thinking rationally. I blew air into my cheeks and let it all out with a rumbling sound. “Truthfully, as long as I can remember. When I was a kid, I used to get in trouble for trying to kiss my girlfriends. I was told I wasn’t allowed to do that. Being with women always seemed off-limits ’til now.” I thought I was going to cry, but I held it in. “I see lesbians out being themselves on campus, and it makes me want to be myself.”
“That’s great, Ginelle. Is there anyone . . . in particular you’re interested in?”
“No, but I think I’ll online date.” I assumed it was better not to tell her about Kira, as it was a mess, and I was still embarrassed about it.
“That’s a great idea.”
“I’m nervous, though. I have no experience with women other than kissing in the shadows.”
“You’ll get experience. You’ve gotta put yourself out there to get that experience, and it sounds like you’re willing to do that.”
“I am.” What a relief it was to just tell someone. I always kissed my friends and thought that’s just what friends did. Now I knew I wasn’t straight, and that’s why I wanted to kiss girls. What would it be like to kiss girls in the daylight?
Paula seemed entirely unfazed. Her expression didn’t change once. She wasn’t warm, though, just sort of nonchalant. I was glad she didn’t exile me, but I didn’t feel super welcomed by her, either. I guess it could have gone worse, but it felt good to finally have told someone. And feeling brave because of it, I decided it was time to tell my family.
Or maybe I’d just tell Nana. The idea of that conversation made me so nervous I wanted to puke.
Later that night, I paced in my dorm room. My roommate was off somewhere, so I thought it was a perfect time to call my grandmother. Then I took several minutes to work up the courage to dial Nana’s number.
“Hi, Nana.” My stomach dropped as I second-guessed myself and the wisdom of making this call.
“Hi, Nell. How are you doing?” she chirped.
“I’m okay. How ’bout you?” I squeaked, feeling tears start to burn in my eyes. And then there they were, dripping down my face.
“I’m doing well,” she said. “I miss you. When’re ya gonna come to visit?” I guessed she couldn’t tell I was crying.
“Miss you, too,” I said in a high-pitched voice. “Maybe this weekend.”
“That sounds good. How’s school going? Is everything okay?” Now I was sure she could hear my crying.
“It’s going well, actually. I’m killin’ it. But, yeah, um, Nan, I wanted to tell you something important.”
“Oh? What is it?”
“It’s juhhhsst . . .” I said almost incoherently. I paused to regain my composure and let out all my breath. “I’m . . . I’m bisexual.”
There was a pause on the other end. Oh, jeez, I thought. Shit. I shouldn’t have told her.
“Okay, Nell. That’s okay.”
“Yeah?” I breathed a sigh of relief. “I just wasn’t sure, you know, with the whole Catholicism thing,” I said. The tears were falling faster now.
“I’ll dance at your wedding, whether it’s a man or a woman,” she said with a laugh. Her laugh was full of love, and her comment made my heart feel like exploding firecrackers.
I chuckled through tears and said, “I love you.” It felt so damn good to be validated, especially after all those years of fearing what she would say as a Catholic about my wanting to kiss girls. Turned out Nana didn’t really care. She just loved me.
“I love you, too. Don’t ever forget it,” she said, still laughing.
I came out to Nana first because I had hoped for a reaction like this. It turned out my Nana loved me more than she cared about Catholicism’s opinions. She’d never made a negative comment about the LGBTQIA+ community, but Lord knows some Christians or Catholics, in general, had a lot to say about it: shame, bad, sinful, broken, ugly, gross. I’d heard it from right-wing conservative churches my whole life. She wasn’t right-wing, though. She was just my Nana.
It felt validating to be emotionally held the way Nana held me, and now I had hope for telling my mom. Dad, not so much, as he’d grown up in a homophobic home that still had its claws in him. He’d talked about “fags” and gay people as if they were dirt on his shoe. I decided not to tell him yet. I decided not to tell Mom, either, until I met someone special.
CHAPTER
I hadn’t used online dating sites before this because their minimum age for membership was eighteen, and for some reason I didn’t defy their age rules as I had when I’d used a fake ID to drink and get a tattoo and piercings. But now I was of age. Shortly after coming out to Paula and Nana, I typed into my new OkCupid profile: Looking for a serious relationship. When it asked the gender I wanted to see, I set it to women. I wanted to make a home out of a woman. Maybe the foundations would be stronger than anything I hoped for with a man. I thought it must be easier because women just get each other. I also thought it’d be sweeter because women are more thoughtful. Maybe we’d buy each other flowers regularly. That was a nice thought.
Right away I got a few bites, people who would send one or two messages back and forth, but then they’d drop off. For the most part, though, women didn’t answer my messages. I wondered if I was just broken, unable to be in a relationship with someone worth my time, someone who also had dreams. Would no one ever love me? For a while, I felt like crap.
Until I met a girl named Penny.
Penny: Hey there :) I saw that you just started a new school year! How’s it going?
Someone messaged me first?! This was exciting.
Me: Hey! School’s going great. I’m really loving it. Are you in school?
Penny: I am. I go to a local community college. I’m trying to save some money before getting into a 4 year. What do you like to do for fun?
What do I like to do for fun? I wondered. Drink, I guess.
Me: I like to party and hang out with my friends. I’ve made some new ones here at Ridgewood. What do you like to do for fun?
Penny: That’s awesome. Drinking can be fun. I like to work out and I work at a garden center. I love plants. :)
This girl was too cool for me! I didn’t really work out anymore, so I’d gained weight. I looked down at the tire of blubber around my waist and wondered if she’d like me anyway.
We continued to chat for a while, and we’d graduated to texting each other off the site. Three days into our texting, Penny texted me a few hours before we were supposed to meet at the beach.
I’m nervous. :) but excited to meet you.
Are you allowed to say that? I wondered. That you’re nervous? I raised my eyebrows when I read her text because I was never that open with my feelings. I kinda liked it because being vulnerable meant just being honest, and in my few experiences being honest, I’d felt that saying the truth out loud was like opening a pressure-release valve. The muscles in my jaw loosened as I began to type. I guessed I could be honest, too.
I’m nervous, too. And excited!
The whole drive there, I wanted to jump out of my seat and do a dance. I could feel my smile overtaking my face, and I blasted “Love on Top” by Beyoncé to help keep my mood elevated. I bopped my head as I thought, I can’t wait to meet her. I hoped she wouldn’t be scared away when she found out I was a baby queer. My sexual experiences with women had so far been limited to drunken kissing late at night and then never talking about it again.
Penny and I met at a beach between our hometowns around 4:00 p.m. on a weekday. It was April, not quite warm enough for summer clothes, so I was bundled in a sweatshirt. When I pulled up, I saw Penny in her gold Pontiac already there and just sitting waiting for me. My stomach whirled. We both got out and had giant grins. The spring New England winds whipped around us as we leaned in for a hug. Penny smelled like Old Spice, which I knew was a scent men often wear. I liked it and noted that her appearance matched the men’s cologne. She wore an orange tee that hugged her thin frame, showing off her flat stomach and almost flat boobs. Her hair was tied up with athletic wrap, and she wore loose jeans that a guy might wear. I leaned in further, and our hug lasted for a few seconds.
“Wanna walk on the beach?” She gestured toward the ocean.
“Yeah.” I smiled, stepped in front of her, and scrunched my face with joy when I knew she couldn’t see my expression. Our feet made imprints in the sand while we walked together and started talking.
“You know, it surprised me that you told me you were nervous.” I laughed and turned around to face her while walking backward.
“Yeah? Why is that?” she chuckled, her soft green eyes meeting mine.
“Because, I don’t know. Aren’t we supposed to be playing it cool or something?” I let out a few awkward giggles before she cracked up.
“You don’t have to do that with me.” She beamed.
“I guess I’ve always tried to play it cool, but it feels kind of good to just be me,” I said. A deep breath came out of my mouth, and I chuckled. How was this happening? Penny nodded and stopped walking.
My laughter settled, and I noticed that without a spot of makeup, she looked perfect. I swallowed hard. Oh my god, this girl was too good to be true.
“Wanna sit down?” She motioned to the sand.
“Yeah.” I was still kind of trying to be cool, but I was trembling.
We planted our butts on the ground, and I let the grainy sand run through my fingertips, trying to avoid looking at her because I was nervous. Her shoulder brushed up against mine, and we let our shoulders stay connected.
“This is my first date with a girl,” I blurted out. My shoulders tightened. I hoped she wouldn’t run away.
There was a pause.
I’ve done it, I thought. I’ve scared Penny away.
“No worries,” she said, smiling. “That doesn’t matter to me.”
My shoulders dropped, and my breathing steadied. Well, here goes nothing, I thought as I leaned my head on her shoulder. Her hand slowly glided over to mine, and she laced her fingers through mine. The softness of her skin made me want to become the ocean with her, waves kissing and flowing into one another.
We chatted for a few hours, getting to know each other, then, smiling gently, she said, “Tell me about what it’s been like coming out.”
“It’s been great for the most part. I haven’t told my parents yet, though. I was waiting until I met someone . . .”
“Gotcha.” Penny hadn’t stopped smiling the whole time we were together. Neither had I. We looked at each other under the moonlight when she leaned in and planted her soft lips on mine. I tried not to freak out, as I was still nervous, so I didn’t use my tongue.
“Wow,” I said, pulling away for a moment. “It’s really nice to do that sober.”
“I get it, honestly. I kissed girls while drinking before I realized I was gay.”
“No way!” I felt relieved. “When did you come out?”
“Only two years ago, when I was seventeen.”
Penny was a year older than me, and I started to relax, knowing she had a similar history. This was miraculous. For the first time ever, I felt hope about being with someone who wasn’t a guy. Penny was gentle, soft, sweet, and actually doing something with her life—going to school and working. Plus, she was a girl. A girl!
It felt good to be coming out of the closet, finally. I didn’t think that the term “gay” described me because I was also attracted to men, but now I was playing with the term “bisexual,” and it felt like a fit.
Although it was only our first date, I already felt that, in Penny, I’d found someone worth telling my parents about.
Penny and I got to know each other fast. We spent most nights having sleepovers in my dorm, and I thought it was a miracle my roommate didn’t seem to care. Sadie was always around, so Penny and I didn’t do more than kiss for the first month. And in those first weeks, even though I was a big drinker, she and I didn’t drink together. But we were always busy doing something fun—like going to bookstores or the mall, hiking, or going to hookah bars together. We were starting to build a beautiful relationship, and I decided I’d tell Mom about it first.
My mom and I had started to get along better when I moved into the dorm, which gave us both more space. We still didn’t talk regularly, and I visited home only once a month or so, but things seemed to be on the mend because we weren’t fighting. During one of my visits home, my mom and I attended a Red Sox game together. I decided that on the ride there, I’d tell her about my bisexuality. I’d tell her about Penny.
“I’m going to another Red Sox game soon,” I said.
“Oh nice, that’s fun. Are you going with your dad?” she asked casually.
I took a deep breath. “I’m going with the girl I’m dating.” I looked down, fidgeting with my cell phone.
“Oh,” she said. “Okay, cool.” She looked back at me briefly with a smile, then returned her gaze to the road. I figured she wouldn’t freak out because she’d historically been much more open-minded than my dad, but I was still nervous about how she’d react the moment she actually heard that her daughter was queer.
Later in the night, as we sat in the stands behind the dugout, she asked, “So, who’s this girl you’re dating?”
My cheeks felt hot as I said, “I really like her. She’s sweet, and she’s nice to me.”
“That’s good. She sounds good for you. Did you guys meet at school?”
This was extraordinary. Here I was, sitting with the mother I’d battled all through my childhood, the mother who had been so awful to me, and we were talking like two mature friends who really respected each other. And she was showing genuine interest in Penny. Wow.
“We actually met on an app.” I smiled. “Her name is Penny.”
“Well, I’d love to meet her sometime.”
As the game went on, I sat there and thought about my mother. Our relationship was really turning around. I genuinely felt that all our two-way abuse was behind us. We could communicate now, even hang out. Weird. I felt warmth in my heart for her, a feeling I thought I’d never have for my own mother. And I felt appreciation for her. This was a good day.
I’d tell Dad about my sexuality at some point, but for now I was content to have entered a new level of honesty with my mother.
The following week, Penny and I rode to a Red Sox game in her gold Pontiac. The car’s upholstery smelled like her lavender air freshener, much girlier than the Old Spice deodorant she used. I thought about how we’d mostly spent time in my dorm room, so aside from the deserted beach, this was my debut in public with a girlfriend.
As we walked toward the stadium, we held hands, and I felt like all eyes were on us—which both exhilarated and terrified me. We were center stage, coming out for the opening act. Penny didn’t seem to notice or care, but she’d been out longer than I had. We nuzzled up next to each other in the seats and took a cute couple’s picture.
“Would you mind if I put it on Facebook?” I asked hesitantly because I wasn’t sure if she’d be cool with it. I wasn’t even sure if I was cool with it.
“Of course! Tag me.” She was like a walking smiley face, just like her messages. I smirked and felt relief and fear at the same time.
For the picture’s caption, I put a heart and a smiley face. People would know she was my girlfriend, right? I put my phone away and decided to just focus on the game.
That night we slept at her house, where she had a room in her parents’ basement. We’d been having sleepovers at my dorm, but this was our first time without any roommates around. I wondered if this would be when we had sex. The logistics of her anatomy and queer sex were a mystery to me. I’d spent years studying and practicing how to please people with penises but knew little about vaginas, even my own. I’d only started to use a vibrator for the first time a few months before, so my own anatomy wasn’t very clear to me. This left me feeling like a child who didn’t know how to tie her shoes.
I slipped off my sports tee and bra, getting ready to put on a sleep shirt, when Penny softly caressed my arm and gently tugged me toward the bed. She had a fire of desire in her eyes as she tugged off her own shirt, revealing a neon-pink sports bra. Yup, I thought, it’s going to happen.
She laid me down, pressing her skin against me, and gliding her tongue into my mouth. I thought about how flat and firm her stomach was compared with how squishy mine was. But she didn’t seem to care as she pushed her body against mine. Although I was worried about my performance, I wasn’t worrying about whether I’d want sex. I was all in.
She pulled away from me for a moment, then began planting gentle kisses on my shoulder, moving her way down my arm. As I continued worrying about my belly fat, she planted smooches on it and laid wet kisses against the inseam of my pants.
“Is it okay if I take these off?” she asked. No one had ever asked me that, not even John. It confused me, but it also comforted me and made me feel safe, a feeling I rarely felt when it came to sex.
“Yeah. Yeah, totally.” This was really happening! I helped her slip off my pants as jitters filled my body.
